Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

VIVIAN

T he nerve of that man!

For several minutes after he left, I just stood in the center of his bedroom—fuming.

With my arms crossed over my chest, I tapped my foot. Well, if he thought I would wait here for him like a good little wannabe girlfriend when he returned from New York later tonight, he had another think coming.

Then I paused…

He had mentioned a Jacuzzi and Gucci.

I looked around the silent bedroom, then wandered barefoot into the hallway. There was a small tissue-wrapped package with my name on it. Inside were my jeans, shirt, bra, and panties from last night. As I rubbed the sparkly yet scratchy top material between my fingers, I looked down at my current attire and wrinkled my nose in disgust.

If I'd never done the walk of shame when I was in my early twenties, there was no reason to start now that I was twenty-eight.

Warming up to the subject, I rationalized it further.

It would serve Var right if I left him in grand style after making use of his Bloomingdale's account.

After all, a girl could hardly make a grand exit wearing a pair of basketball shorts!

Padding into the kitchen, I picked up the house phone.

" Dobroye utro , this is Oona speaking, how may I be of service to you, Ms. Peyton?"

I tried to think about what the most expensive breakfast item would be. "Would it be possible to get a smoked salmon Eggs Benedict with some steamed asparagus?"

"But of course."

"And some caviar on top."

She chuckled. "That is the best way. Would you also like some fresh squeezed orange juice and a carafe of coffee?"

"Could you make it a skim milk latte?"

"Yes, of course. Is there anything else I can be of assistance with?"

I twisted the phone cord around my finger. "How would I contact the Bloomingdale's personal shopper?"

"Var mentioned to me you might be interested in their services on his way out. I took the liberty of reaching out to them. They already have your sizes on file from your excursion earlier this week. Unless you have something specific in mind, I can arrange for them to send over a selection to choose from, if that would suit your needs?"

I studied my manicure. "Why, yes, Oona. That would suit my needs just fine." I ran my thumb over a chipped nail. "Now talk to me about manicure options."

After turning the bathroom lights down low with the remote, I sank down into the luxurious silk bath bubbles. Raising my arm, I brushed the suds away and admired my fresh crimson manicure. I then stretched my right leg out and admired the matching pedicure.

Using the remote again, I started the Jacuzzi jets.

Damn, a girl could get used to this.

Too bad I wasn't the type of girl to stay with a man just because of his money.

But I was the type to teach a man a lesson that way.

My eyes flew open after I shifted my hips, allowing the jet to hit in just the right spot.

Glancing around the black marble and gold bathroom, even though I knew I was the only one in the penthouse, I reached for the remote and increased the jet pressure, then opened my knees wider.

As I leaned back again, I thought of Var and his magic penis.

Why did arrogant, incredibly hot, confident, and obscenely rich men have to be so darn attractive?

It wasn't fair.

With a sigh, I got out of the Jacuzzi. After using a towel to dry off, a towel to squeeze the water from my hair, another one to wrap my hair, another one to wrap around my hips, another one to wrap around my torso, and a final one to carry just because, I was satisfied I had deliberately used all of his clean towels and padded down the hall back to his bedroom.

Just inside the doorway was a rack filled with lovely clothes and another rack with purses, belts, and scarves, as well as boxes of shoes. Taped to the brass railing was a note telling me to select whatever I liked and they'd send someone to retrieve the rest the next day.

There were tops and skirts and dresses and gowns and cute jackets.

And the cutest designer purses and shoes to match it all.

I spent over two hours playing Barbie.

Then, after selecting a classic Chanel tweed that I'd always wanted to own, I glanced between the clothing rack and Var's closet.

I leaned back to look down the hallway to make sure no one, especially Var, was suddenly popping out of the elevator.

I bit my lip. Did I dare?

Then anger rose in my chest as I remember how he'd burned my paintings.

He owed me.

Going into his closet, it only took me a few moments to find two large Louis Vuitton wardrobe traveling trunks. The amazing vintage ones that cost the equivalent of a car and that were only seen in old black and white films.

Perfect.

Flipping both lids open, I started with the purses.

Later, I called down to Oona. "Hello again. I'm going to need a porter. And a taxi, please."

"Right away, Ms. Peyton."

Before I hung up, I said, "Oh, and you can tell Bloomingdale's there is no need for someone to collect the clothes. I kept it all."

"Well, don't you look fabulous!" said Barb as I entered their apartment.

Millie came rushing into the living room, then twirled her fingers. "Give us a spin."

I obliged, showing off my pink and black Chanel ensemble.

"Very nice."

"Is this from the new man in your life?"

I shrugged as I placed my Chanel classic leather quilt with chain strap purse on the kitchen island. "Sort of. And he's not my man."

Barb shook her head. "We were so hoping you'd finally started behaving like the beautiful young woman you are and lived a little. Sweetie, you need a man in your life. They are a pain in the ass most of the time, but they are good for some fun."

I lifted my chin. "As it so happens, I met a guy at the club last night."

There was no point in mentioning it was before another douchebag grabbed me and then Var showed up, kicked that guy's ass, and dragged me out while I was high on some kind of dancing green alien pot. Or the part about fucking on the kitchen floor on top of a banana split sundae.

Nope. I'd take those details to the grave.

And if I were completely honest, I only sort of met another man.

His name was Bob.

Unfortunately, not Robert—I asked.

It was Bob.

Which I definitely would not mention to Millie and Barb either. I didn't need another lecture on their correlation theory between a man's name and his sexual prowess.

Bob had been handsome, accomplished, very intelligent, and mind-numbingly boring. I mean, how much interest was a girl supposed to pretend to have in supply chain management software? Still, Michelle had grabbed my phone and gotten Bob's number while giving him mine.

He'd already texted me, asking if I wanted to go see a movie.

A movie? What were we? Fifteen?

I inwardly sighed.

I was going to have to try really hard not to compare every man, moving forward, to Var.

What man could compete with an over six foot tall, tattooed Russian Mafia boss, who carried guns as if they were pens and spent money as if it were water?

Not to mention his magic penis.

I could no longer deny it.

That bastard hitting my G-spot was no accident.

Every. Fucking. Time. We. Fucked .

Damn him. A G-spot orgasm was so much better than a vibrator or even an oral sex orgasm.

Unlike with the other ones, I didn't have to do anything for a G-spot orgasm.

No giving ‘higher, lower, to the left, no to the right, faster, not so faster, harder, not so hard' instructions. No trying to press invisible silicon buttons and accidentally setting the vibration too high and ruining everything.

A G-spot orgasm was like a man's orgasm. Effortless.

Damn him.

But I had to resist the temptation. The man was the very definition of toxic male.

I'd gotten back on the horse. Literally, if I considered the size of Var's dick.

No, stop it.

I'd gotten back on the figurative dating horse. Sort of. It wasn't like I'd consider my hate fucks with Var dates, but they counted in this respect.

I was finally back on the market after a three-year hiatus. What I needed to do was open myself up to dating. Normal dating. I needed to put myself out there. I realized that now.

Until this morning, I initially had no intention of responding to Bob.

Then Var had pissed me off by just casually mentioning—in that overbearing, domineering, what Me too movement? way of his—that he'd burned my paintings, presumably for my own good.

Fuck him.

Why not go on a date with Bob?

And a movie would be perfect.

There was no talking in a movie. No stimulating supply chain management software talk.

"He works at a software engineering company downtown. We might go to the movies this week."

Millie's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound like the man from yesterday, does it, Barb?"

My body stilled as a warbled pounding in my ears almost drowned out all sound. "What man from yesterday?"

Had they seen Var use my key to snoop around my apartment, like I suspected he'd done?

Barb pulled a plate of tea sandwiches out of the refrigerator and set them on the island as Millie added sugar to a pitcher of iced tea. "Cut the strawberries, will you, dear?"

Shrugging out of the matching jacket, I took the apron Millie offered and put it on. Then, holding the paring knife, I cut the tops off the strawberries as I asked them again, "What did you mean by the man from yesterday?"

Barb pulled out the utensil drawer and selected a few forks. "The Russian one. Or I guess I should say the other Russian one." She chuckled. "Lord, sweetie, when you finally decide to get back out there, you really jump in with two feet, don't you? I mean two Russian men vying for your?—"

I chopped the tops off the strawberries with more violence than was necessary as my panic rose. "Barb! Please…"

She waved her hand over her chest and neck. "The handsome man with the suit and all the tattoos."

Crap.

Had the Russian recovery specialist hired by the Mona Lisa oligarch come looking for the paintings… or worse, me?

My hand paused on the cutting board. "Did he look like a Bond villain?"

Both of Millie's eyebrows rose. "Why, yes! That's how I would describe him, or like if Clark Gable were Russian and a kind of a dirty, sexy, bad boy."

Barb nudged her with her elbow. "Well, Clark had quite a reputation. Those come-fuck-me eyes and those shoulders."

"Ladies!"

Millie shrugged as she filled three glasses with ice. "What? We're not dead."

I leaned forward. "So did you actually speak with him or just see him in the hallway?"

"Yes, dear, we spoke. He was very charming. If a bit terrifying."

Barb finished for her. "All those tattoos and the way he scowled when he found out you hadn't been home. We figured he was jealous of you spending your time possibly with another man," she said with a conspiratorial wink.

Millie covered her mouth as she laughed. "So many men to keep track of. Well done, dear. Reminds me of me when I was your age."

This was so fucking bad.

Part of me wanted to call Var and let him know, but my pride rebelled. My mother was freaking right. She'd always said one of these days I was going to cut off my nose to spite my face. Except now it would be taking a bullet to the chest, but at least she'd have the satisfaction of knowing she was right, which for my mother would be the more important thing.

And now I'd gotten my friends pulled into it.

"When was this?"

They looked at each other as Barb picked up a chicken salad tea sandwich. "The first or second time?"

The air seized in my lungs. He'd been to my home twice ?

"The first time was yesterday afternoon. That's when we caught him coming out of your apartment."

So it had been him, not Var. Oops.

"We thought he was your new Russian man. He seemed very amused by that and asked all sorts of questions. But don't worry, we didn't answer any of them. We played mostly dumb."

My eyes widened as I gripped the knife. "Oh, no. What did you tell him?"

Millie leaned over and snatched a strawberry from the cutting board. "Nothing because we didn't know anything," she said with an exaggerated wink. "I do hope we didn't cause you any trouble by hinting about your first man, but dear, men do thrive on competition and a challenge. Judging by his response, it definitely piqued his curiosity."

I just bet it did.

I really loved these two as if they were my very inappropriate great-aunts. That my actions may have put them in danger made me sick.

"Did he tell you his name?"

Barb shook her head. "No. Only for us to tell you he'd been there for a visit. And that you would know who he was. But we didn't see you. Then he came back today."

I swallowed as I sat down on the kitchen stool. "Today?"

Millie nodded. "At a very unseemly early hour, if I might add."

Barb waved her hand in the air. "The racket! It was enough to wake the dead."

"What racket?"

"Why, him knocking on your door, of course. It was so odd. I mean, he obviously had a key or something to get in there the first time. It was like he wanted to scare you or something." She patted my hand. "But don't you worry. Millie popped her head out and gave him what for. You have to teach these men right from the start how to behave."

Oh, God. He could have so easily pulled his gun out and shot her.

I wrapped my arm around my middle, not sure I could take much more of their animated tale. I swallowed past the bile in my throat and asked, "And then what happened?"

Millie wagged her finger. "This time, we told him about your other man. I told him if he didn't stop this nonsense, we were going to make sure that you told your other new big scary boyfriend from over at the Four Monks."

Barb grinned as she lifted her iced tea in a mock toast. "That sure shut him up."

I closed my eyes as I rubbed my temple.

"Everyone knows about the men at the Four Monks, dear. And he's also Russian, so he definitely must know about them. We figured he would get the picture, and he did."

I stood and placed my palms on the counter as I leaned forward. "He did?"

"Yes. He made sure we meant the Four Monks, and then he smiled and said that changes everything and to tell Vivian never mind. Then he gave us five hundred dollars if you can believe it and told us to go treat ourselves to something nice for our troubles. He then went on his way."

Millie pulled the money out of her housecoat pocket and spread out the new bills before fanning herself. "We're going to get dressed up and head to Maple & Ash for dinner. Do you want to join us? They have great dirty martinis."

Tell Vivian never mind?

The man's threats had turned my world upside down, and now he says never mind ?

That couldn't possibly be it.

But maybe it was.

Judging by what they said, he'd completely changed his mind after learning the Four Monks were involved.

Var had been telling me this whole time he wasn't just some underling in the Russian Mafia.

Maybe even the mere mention of the Four Monks was like saying the name Corleone to an Italian. If you knew, you knew.

Was it possible?

Maybe.

Wow.

Could this entire shit show finally be over?

An odd, unsettled feeling churned in my stomach.

If it was all over, then there truly was no reason for any more interactions with Var.

I mean, I was set on that this morning, but part of me knew he would not let the issue with the other Russian man rest.

Chances were the Bond villain dude had already reached out to Var and explained himself.

So it was over.

It was all over.

Like really over.

Huh…

Barb snapped her fingers. "Earth to Vivian. Did you want to come with us tonight?"

I blinked before skirting around the island and giving them both a kiss on the cheek. "You know what? That sounds lovely. How about we go in a few hours for an early dinner before it gets too crowded? Just knock on my door when you're ready."

In the meantime, I needed time to process and think.

Mainly, I needed time to drink copious amounts of wine and feel guilty about all the dirty sex I had with Var while wearing some of the clothes I'd pretty much stolen from him.

Would he even care?

Probably not. The man seemed to have more money than God.

Still.

I couldn't help but wonder if he would be relieved or angry when he got home tonight and found out I wasn't there. It would probably be for the best if I wasn't in my apartment either.

Just in case…